Like every other fiber obsessed person in the Northeast, I was at the Rhinebeck Sheep and Wool Festival last weekend.
I bought a lot of fiber, a gorgeous hand-crafted drop spindle, and a rigid heddle loom for my daughter the aspiring weaver. The fiber was a wonderful thing, as were all the cute little cleaned-up-for-non-farming-human-consumption fiber producing animals. We were particularly fond of a lovely soft white llama named Irish Cream.
But what I liked best about the weekend was meeting so many interesting people that shared (to varying degrees) my obsession. One woman started a conversation with me while my daughter was shopping for roving at Spirit Trail (my daughter also got a drop spindle, for a nine year old with no discernable income, she sure did have a lot of packages when we left…) The woman said to me “I hope you know what you are doing, teaching your little girl to love fiber – it’s a lifelong addiction!” It made me laugh (and caused my daughter to ask me what addiction meant) but I realized the woman was right – soon I would have to make room in the house for someone else’s stash, when there was barely room for mine!
I think it is interesting that the language of illegal drugs is the language of choice for the knitters I know…stash…addiction…one knitter I know refers to fiber dealers who are great salespeople as pushers. I could quit any time I wanted to though – really I could. I have my habit completely under control….